


All Of This Aftermath

by geckoholic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Established Relationship, F/F, Kings & Queens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: A familiar voice tears her from her thoughts, the tone sweet and a bit lilting, with a faint note of mockery. “Your highness, are you contemplating your future at this hour?”Alizea smiles, but doesn't turn, not yet. “Is that any way to talk to your queen?”
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	All Of This Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astraholt (kicksmalfoy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicksmalfoy/gifts).



> I had every intention to add to this before reveals and make it actually porny, but, life. /o\
> 
> Not beta-read, so all mistakes are most definitely are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Taboo" by Mona.

Alizea sits down on the bed with a sigh. Her head aches, her feet hurt, and the dress, while gorgeous and befitting of a young queen, had been way too restricting – especially since she's worn it for many hours. The festivities lasted through the night; the rising sun is already bathing the fields and forests around the castle in a beautiful pink-orange glow. She took the crown in the midst of the mildest summer in a decade, a fact that the people see as a good omen. 

Her people. Her kingdom. 

She doesn't believe the rumors of the shadows that had befallen the former queen. Dark rituals, a deal that came back for her and thereby for the kingdom as a whole. Alizea didn't really know her mother, but she knows enough that she's absolutely certain Queen Amalia would not have bowed to anyone, human or otherworldly alike. She was old. She was sick – not in the body, see, but in the head. Rumor has it, too, that the council helped things along when it came to Queen Amalia's death. A good daughter should care about that, should want to hold them to account. 

But the queen hadn't been a good mother, either, never deserved her loyalty, and Alizea isn't willing to forgive her only because she picked Alizea as her successor. Especially not since that means she'll have to work all the harder in the first couple of years of her reign, defending her position and authority against her two older sisters. 

A familiar voice tears her from her thoughts, the tone sweet and a bit lilting, with a faint note of mockery. “Your highness, are you contemplating your future at this hour?”

Alizea smiles, but doesn't turn, not yet. “Is that any way to talk to your queen?”

Jule's laughter erupts through the room, making something deep in the pit of Alizea's stomach settle, makes the voices in her head fall quiet. “I speak only out of concern for her majesty.” 

That much is true, Alizea knows. No one in the world has ever cared for her the way Jule does. No one ever will, possibly. She was the one who chose the service of a third princess when offered positions at all the princess’s households, and she was the one who secretly helped her new charge learn and grow and bloom from a rude tomboy into the refined lady that took the crown today. Quite often in the past few days, Alizea has wondered if Jule – her handmaiden, her teacher, her friend, her _everything_ had premonitions about this turn of events. If that's why she's chosen her. The sect that raised Jule is supposed to hold these skills – 

“Alizea.” The teasing has vanished from Jule's voice. She now sounds serious, urgent. “Alizea, I chose _you_ , not your position or your potential. We talked about this. I thought you believed me.” 

Flopping backwards onto the bed, Alizea closes her eyes and lets out another sigh. “Yes, my love. I know. Forgive me. It has been a long day.” 

“That is true,” Jule says, now sounding closer than the last time she spoke. Alizea's whole body tingles from the promise of proximity, of _more_. 

She's exhausted, and so is Jule, having organized the whole shebang behind the curtains, but this doesn't need to be elaborate lovemaking. A quick tumble through the sheets, just enough for mutual reassurance, that would do nicely. 

The bed dips, and then Jule is there, beside her, leaning in for a kiss. Despite all the luxuries and cultural offerings she was presented with in the past twelve or more hours, this is the best moment of the day, the one thing she has been waiting for, craved, since Jule helped put on her dress this morning. To the world she is now a queen; to Jule, she is still just _Alizea_. Jule knows that she would take riding attire and a day spent on horseback over pretty dresses and court proceedings any day. Jule knows that she had her own opinions over her mother's rule even when no one could have know she would succeed her, when even the thought of disagreement with the queen could have endangered one's life, even – or especially – as one of the princesses. That's something Alizea will do differently; she will assert herself as the ruler, the final decision always resting with her, but she will welcome discussion, opinions both in line with and differently from her own. 

“Didn't I tell you,” Jule says between little pecks to Alizea's jaw. “To quit the heavy thoughts for tonight?” 

Alizea shifts, offering her neck for more of the same attention. “Make them fly from my mind, then,” she demands, and laughs when Jule's hand immediately wanders down to the loose binding at the back of her nightdress. “Look at you, so obedient for once.” 

“I'm serving a queen now,” Jule points out, and just as to underline her point, she works her hand into the now-open nightdress, cupping one of Alizea's breasts, her thumb teasing the nipple. The nub immediately hardens, both from arousal and the chill night air, and Alizea moans. Heat pools between her legs, pulses even more strongly when Jule peels the nightdress from her shoulder, exposing Alizea's entire chest to her hungry gaze. 

It isn't appropriate, of course it's not, a queen loving her handmaiden, but it's actually less dangerous now than it used to be when Alizea was a princess. As queen, she can pick and choose her lovers. Her mother sure did; she was married when she was young, but out of her five sisters and three brothers only the first two were fathered by the late king. All the rest of Alizea's siblings have different fathers, herself included, and only half of them have royal blood pumping through their veins from both sides. It matters not; the only ancestry that matters is that from their mother's side. 

She'll have to marry eventually, as well, but that's far in the future and also, marriage doesn't mean love in their circles. Sometimes it doesn't even mean sex. It means solidifying a reign, or uniting kingdoms, or forging an alliance. No one will care who's actually in her heart, nor will she care who might warm her husband's bed. 

Jule tugs at her to lift her hips, get the nightdress off completely, and Alizea decides she will finally do as demanded. She'll stop thinking, about politics, about the past or the future. 

About everything that isn't Jule.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [dreamwidth](https://geckoholic.dreamwidth.org/), [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
